


Something to Keep You Warm

by MarzgaPerez



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Coping, Gen, Homecoming, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knitting, Rehabilitation, Secrets, Sentimental, Stockholm Syndrome, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarzgaPerez/pseuds/MarzgaPerez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Additional Thansa scenes from the last few episodes of Season 5 with a nod to Season 6. </p><p>What if Theon/Reek had visited Sansa a few more times in her chamber before their escape from Winterfell? Got this idea from the wonderful "knitting" sketch by WitchesBrew, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6767473/chapters/15468469">"All you knit is love."</a></p><p>These chapters have a common thread, pun intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Thramsay sketches](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767473) by [WitchesBrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchesBrew/pseuds/WitchesBrew). 



Sansa shuddered at the sound of the key turning in the lock. It was one of the sounds she dreaded most, along with Ramsay's cruel cackle and his raspy, hungry breathing in her ear. What did he want now? Wasn't Ramsay satisfied for the evening, having spent his seed inside her and taunted her with the notion that she might be carrying his heir. She prayed to the gods to be free from this nightmare. Now that Theon had betrayed her, she was clinging to the hope that Stannis would defeat the Boltons.

Sansa thought about that poor woman Ramsay had mercilessly flayed. She was the only kind person Sansa had encountered since her return to Winterfell. Damn Theon...or Reek, whatever his name was now.

Sansa lay still in her bed as the door opened slowly. She heard footsteps moving across the floor, and she closed her eyes tighter, wishing she was anywhere else.

"M'lady?"

It wasn't Ramsay after all. Sansa had a moment of reprieve. And she knew the origin of that shaky, wispy voice. It was Theon.

"What is it?"

"I-I heard you...crying."

"Oh." Sansa was suddenly hopeful that Theon had returned to see her, presumably of his own volition. Or was this a test concocted by Ramsay? She couldn't be sure.

"Theon. Reek. I mean, Reek. It's very late. What will Ramsay do if he finds out you've paid me a visit?"

Reek paused for a moment before answering. "The master won't be looking for me. He's taken Myranda to his chambers for the night."

Maybe that's why Ramsay had shortened his "visit" with her. Not that he had been any kinder, finding new places to strike her arms and legs. But never her face. Roose couldn't know how badly Ramsay treated his new bride.

"I wanted to bring you something...to help pass the time."

This didn't seem like a trap. Theon wasn't asking her to do anything. Should she try to overpower him and make a run for it? But where would she go? Maybe she could make it to the tower, light the candle, and hide there until help arrived.

"D-don't." Even in the dim light from the dying fire, Reek could see her mind going a mile a minute. "The hounds are loose in the courtyard. They'll tear you to pieces, and only the master himself could call them off."

Sansa buried her face in her hands. "I think I would welcome death over this daily torture."

"No, not like that. You have to try to make the best out of this...situation. The master will be kinder to you, the less you resist."

Sansa wanted to shake Theon back to his former self. Why wouldn't he help her escape? What power did Ramsay have over him? And would she someday become a former shadow of herself like Theon? No, she had to keep fighting. Sansa realized she would have to be patient and slowly coax Theon to her side. She played along.

"What did you bring me?" Sansa sat up in her bed and wiped a few lingering tears from her cheek.

Reek was relieved to have piqued her interest and his eyelids fluttered as he extended his hand towards her, his remaining fingers clenched around a cloth bag.

"I'll come back for these...in the morning."

After she took the bag from him, Reek stepped over to the fireplace.

"You'll need some light. Better to keep warm anyways." He added a few pieces of kindling and some logs to the low flames.

"What's in the bag?"

"O-open it."

Sansa lifted the bag onto her lap, and she noticed a slight clanging. It wasn't very heavy. She emptied the contents in front of her and was surprised to see two shiny knitting needles and some yarn. One of the balls of yarn rolled onto the floor, and Sansa moved to pick it up.

"Let me, m'lady." Reek had been watching Sansa, waiting for her reaction. He was hoping for a smile or at least some expression of mild amusement, but she remained stoic and unmoved.

Reek found the yarn under her bed and placed it next to the others. "I thought you could do some knitting...if you still remember how."

Sansa scoffed at his words. "Of course I remember how. But do you think a distraction like this will make anything better? I can't stay here much longer. I don't have to tell you the level of cruelty that Ramsay inflicts upon me. I need to find Bran and Rickon. They may be the only family I have left."

 _Family_. But Ramsay was her family now, whether she accepted it or not. Reek was growing tired of Sansa resisting her new reality.

"I'm sorry that I upset you. I can...take it all a-away."

Sansa silently scolded herself for that outburst. Theon must be putting himself at great risk by bringing her the knitting supplies. If she was going to win him over, she would need to show him some gratitude.

"Wait. Please leave them. It was thoughtful of you to remember how much I enjoyed knitting as a girl."

Reek nodded at her and hesitated briefly before turning to go. "Very well. I'll be back later...to collect the needles from you."

Sansa thought about taking his hand in gratitude, but she knew it was better to give him some space and continue building trust with him on his terms.

"Good night. And thank you."

^^^^^^^^^^

He was in the kitchen earlier than usual to assemble her breakfast tray. The cook had readied a pot of mush, and Reek scooped a large heap of it into a bowl with a small pot of honey on the side. Maybe Sansa would feel more like herself if she actually finished a meal, and he remembered how much she liked honey.

He hurried to her room, knowing that Ramsay would be expecting his own breakfast any minute along with something for his companion.

Reek unlocked Sansa's door and panicked for a moment when he came upon her empty bed. He scanned the room quickly, half expecting her to jump at him from behind the door. But there she was curled up on some blankets next to the fireplace, still asleep with the knitting needles resting at her side. The needles were intertwined with what looked like a scarf.

There was no time to spare. He gently picked up her work, along with what remained of the yarn, and placed the items back inside the bag.

"Theon?" Sansa lifted herself from the blankets and stretched her arms in the air.

"Not Theon. Reek."

She felt around beside her for the knitting supplies.

"I-I have them, Sansa."

When she fully opened her eyes, she watched Theon as he placed the contents from the breakfast tray on the small table near her bed.

"Will you bring them back another time?"

"I'll do my best."

"And will you do one other thing for me?"

Reek grimaced, awaiting what he assumed would be an impossible request. But he nodded at her.

"Can you bring some more yarn and another pair of needles? I want to start on a second project. And some scissors?"

"Sansa."

"I'm not plotting anything...I promise."

"I'll see if I can get some more things from Lady Walda...without her noticing. B-but you have to start eating more."

"Alright."

Sansa rose up from the floor and sat down beside the table. She noticed the pot of honey and drizzled some on top of the steaming mush before taking a bite.

She was sure that she saw some flicker of emotion pass over Theon's usually expressionless face. It was only a matter of time, she thought, before she could convince him to help her. And if not, she'd have to find a way out of this misery on her own.


	2. Chapter 2

Ramsay was boasting to Sansa that things were looking up in regards to the pending attack by Stannis. He let it slip that he wouldn't be around for a few days. She must not have responded appropriately to the news as Ramsay shoved her onto the floor, spitting at her and telling her she needed to be a more supportive wife. He suggested that she be less "boring" upon his return or that he could find ways to liven things up.

It seemed unlikely that Stannis would liberate her after all, and Sansa figured she had two choices - flee on her own or flee with help from Theon. She hadn't yet given up hope that he might come around.

And she assumed that if Ramsay was going to be away from Winterfell, maybe Theon would be bold enough to visit her again. He'd have to risk getting past Myranda or any of Ramsay's other faithful underlings, but if anyone could navigate Winterfell with discretion, it was Theon.

So she waited for him. Sansa sat at the window and watched as the sky turned black, peppered with a star or two. There was chatter coming from somewhere below, maybe even laughter, which was now a rarity in Winterfell.

She decided to lay down, gazing into the flames from the fire and almost falling asleep to the comforting sounds of the crackling wood. Then she heard keys jangling outside the door and the turning of a key in her lock.

"S-sansa?"

"Theon. I'm glad you came back."

She watched as he placed the bag of knitting supplies on the table. And she was surprised that he didn't correct her use of his name.

"The master came by before with your dinner. Did he say anything...about me?"

"No, nothing. And he didn't bring me any dinner."

"I'm sorry, Sansa. If I had known, I would have..."

"It's alright. I'm not very hungry, but I could use some company." Sansa pulled the blankets and pillows from the bed and placed them by the fireplace. "Sit down over here."

Reek was heading towards the door. "No, I must get back to the kennels."

"Please. Stay. It's so lonely here." Sansa had picked up the bag and was motioning for Theon to join her next to the fireplace.

As much as he tried to move his feet towards the door, he couldn't. Here was his childhood friend, staring back at him, needing him. It was the least he could do after betraying her by telling Ramsay about the candle and the tower.

Reek walked sheepishly over to the fireplace. He pushed the blankets out of the way and sat on the hard floor with his head lowered and his hands resting between his knees.

"You don't look comfortable. Take a pillow."

But Reek didn't budge. He didn't want to leave his foul scent behind on her things.

Sansa proceeded to take everything out of the bag and place the items in a neat row between them. She picked up the extra set of needles and went to work on a second item, eventually looking up to smile at her guest. What could they talk about that wouldn't be too upsetting? Sansa thought of something and then laughed to herself.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking of Arya. And the name she gave her first sword...Needle. Do you remember?"

Reek thought for a moment and then a wave of recognition crossed over his face. "Yes, I do. Jon gave it to her."

"She definitely preferred her sword over a knitting needle. Mother could rarely convince her to knit with us."

Sansa sighed nostalgically.

"Theon? Have you ever tried knitting before?"

Reek shook his head. He'd only ever known women to knit, remembering that Catelyn and Sansa and the other ladies of Winterfell (except for Arya) could knit for hours at a time.

He clasped his hands together, running his thumbs over his knotted knuckles, feeling for his phantom fingers. He probably couldn't hold a pair of knitting needles, even if he wanted to.

"C-can't do much with these hands. The master made sure of that."

Sansa glanced at him sympathetically. "Will you let me teach you?"

"Teach me...to knit? But why?"

"Maybe it would help you regain some of the strength in your hands."

"And then maybe Lady Walda would invite me to her knitting circle."

Sansa looked over at Theon, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. Had he just make a joke?

His eyes met hers, and she laughed out loud. Reek suddenly pulled his hand over his mouth, surprised by the strange desire to move his lips into a smile. It had been years since he smiled. Surely, Ramsay would find out and punish him. He began shaking.

Sansa reached over to steady him. "It's alright. If I'm to stay here in Winterfell as Ramsay's wife, you and I can be friends. He'd like that. Don't you think?"

Reek took a deep breath and thought for a moment before nodding.

"Okay, good. Now let me show you a basic stitch."

Sansa positioned herself next to Theon, picking up her almost finished scarf and handing him the new project. She already knew that he was missing an index finger on his right hand, so she started working the needles with her thumbs and middle fingers. It was awkward at first, but the slower she went, the easier it was to show Theon.

Sansa decided it was time for him to try. Reek flinched when she touched his arm, but eventually, he allowed her to pick up one of his hands, and she placed the needles in between his fingers.

He felt ashamed to have her so close, enduring his horrible stench, but she didn't seem to notice or care. It had been too long since someone touched him in a way that wasn't meant to inflict pain.

Even though she guided him through several stitches, Reek remained confused when he tried on his own. But Sansa was a patient teacher, and she worked on a few more rows with him until he seemed to get the hang of it.

She moved back over across from him, and he kept at his work at a slow but determined pace. His knitting looked nothing like Sansa's, but he seemed proud of his effort.

Sansa finished the last row of her scarf. She clipped the end of the last stitch with the scissors and neatly tied it off. Then she quietly placed it around Theon's shoulders.

"Do you like it?"

"It's nice."

"You should keep it."

"I'm not sure where."

"Well, if you can't keep it, perhaps I'll stash it under my mattress and use it to choke Ramsay one of these days."

Sansa had meant it in jest...mostly. She'd spent a good deal of her time dreaming of ways to put an end to Ramsay's life. But judging by the horrified look on Theon's face, she realized she had misspoken.

"Y-you can't say things...like that. He's my master...and yours."

"Theon, I wasn't being serious. I couldn't possibly strangle Ramsay with a scarf. He'd overpower me."

But the damage was done. Reek began shoving the scissors and yarn into the bag and muttering to himself. He started to tear at his own work, pulling the needles out and then loosening the stitches until he had formed a gaping hole.

"Theon!"

He was still thrashing around, tearing at the yarn, and he was just about to pull off Sansa's finished scarf and toss it into the fire.

"Reek! Reek! Stop!"

The sound of that name coming from her lips was sobering. He became still and lowered his head.

"I better go."

"Theon, I'm sorry."

"This was a mistake..."

He turned to go, and Sansa didn't try to stop him. She realized that he was too far gone, and she didn't have the luxury of time to convince him that he was so much more than Ramsay's slave.

She was suddenly fearful that he would confess his transgressions to Ramsay. That would mean severe punishment for both of them. Sansa worked her fingers between the mattress and the board of the bed, searching for the cork screw she had grabbed just a few days ago. She would wait and watch and listen for her chance to be free. Theon would have to stay and rot in Winterfell, but she couldn't. She'd had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know a thing about knitting, so feedback/suggestions are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward to Season 6, Episode 4 after the escape from Winterfell and Theon leaving Sansa to go home. Imagined scenes before and after Theon's encounter with Yara.

The movement of the ship had lulled him into a restful sleep. Theon's nightmares had nearly subsided, and he no longer feared waking up to the whims of an angry, irrational tyrant. Lately, his dreams had been filled with memories of his escape from Winterfell with Sansa and their trek through the Northern woods.

He was slowly getting used to the odd sensation of being free. It had been a long time since Theon thought about his future. Before, he would only allow himself to think about putting one foot in front of the other, not knowing what awaited his next step.

He had wanted to die a long time ago, and he nearly was dead until Sansa returned to Winterfell. She reminded him of something good, of a time when he felt like a person instead of a thing. She who refused to take his hand on her wedding night, still carrying hatred for his crimes against her family. She who later tried to awaken him, to convince him to help her. He had resisted, but he couldn't let Ramsay or Myranda break her apart. It had been difficult to leave Sansa, but he knew she was in good hands.

Theon needed to see his sister and beg for forgiveness. He was never quite sure that he hadn't dreamed her attempt to rescue him. As time went on, he realized that Ramsay couldn't have swayed Yara to stage something like that. She had been loyal to him for most of his miserable life. Surely she would take him back, even if Balon refused.

A voice called out to him from above, disrupting his sleep, and Theon sat up abruptly.

"Prince of Pyke...we're here! Make sure you're quick about getting our payment from your sister."

Theon pulled himself off the floor and made his way to the steps leading up to the deck. He was eager to see how his home was different since the last time, and yet he knew it would be the same - looming and cold. But he somehow felt like a freer man this time around.

^^^^^^^^^^

He had forgotten what a luxury it was to sit in a heated bath. The last time he had a really nice bath...Theon closed his eyes and shook his head wildly before the memory came to back to him.

Instead, he thought about seeing Yara again, seated in their father's chair, brooding over the fire just like Balon. Her callous tone and harsh words rang in his ears. But she hadn't struck him or ordered him away. Instead, Yara had taken him to his old room and called for one of the servants to prepare a meal and draw him a bath.

He ate first. Theon didn't have much appetite for the briney fish, but he did finish the crusty bread and small mug of ale. Several minutes into his bath, he began to feel light-headed and must have dozed off for a few minutes before realizing that the water had turned cold.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed Yara standing in the doorway with some fresh clothes draped over her arms.

"I thought maybe you had drowned."

"No, I must have fallen asleep." Theon's teeth began to chatter.

"Well don't stay in there. I brought you some clothes. I'll meet you in your room." Yara put the shirt and pants on a hook beside the door. After she turned to go, Theon climbed out of the tub, shivering and trying not to slip on the wet floor. He dried off quickly and pulled on the clothes as fast as he could. His wet hair was matted and dripping down his back as he plodded to his room.

Yara was seated inside, and she turned her head in disgust when she saw Theon's mangled hands. "So, you really were his plaything?" She pounded her fist on the wooden arm of the chair. "How could you let him do those things to you? Why didn't you fight him?"

Theon stared blankly back at his sister. He was too exhausted to explain anything, and he didn't want to think about Ramsay.

"Yara, I just want to sleep. We can talk more in the morning. I meant what I said before about helping you."

She looked back at him and waited until his eyes met hers. _Oh, baby brother, how could I have saved you? Is it too late now?_

"Fine. Tomorrow. We'll see what's left of Theon Greyjoy."

Theon nodded at her as he sat down on the bed.

As Yara started to leave, she noticed something strange on the side table in the room. "I told him to burn all the clothes you came with. He must have missed this." She went to pick up the garment, but Theon darted over to grab it from her.

"Not this, Yara."

She scoffed at him and lifted the item to inspect it. "Why? Did you take up knitting in your spare time?"

"A friend made it..."

Yara shrugged her shoulders. She didn't care about things, and she certainly wasn't sentimental. "Suit yourself."

Theon ran his fingers over the scarf. 

Instead of destroying it back at Winterfell, he'd kept it hidden around his waist, and thus carried it with him over the wall.

He had tried to give it back to Sansa one of those nights in the woods, after drying it by the fire.

 _No, you keep it_ , she'd told him.  _And one of these days, you'll knit something for me._

He'd managed to give her a reassuring smile. _I did have an excellent teacher._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I couldn't help but go a little sappy. Or a lot...


End file.
